iSisters
by kaykaykayla
Summary: They're identical twins, and even though they both claim to feel nothing for each other now, they've always had a bond that can never be broken. This is a series of mostly dialogue peeks into the lives of Samantha and Melanie Puckett.
1. Age 10

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: iSisters has been re-uploaded, given a new summary, a new chapter, and the chance for a couple more chapters later on. I'm not sure if it will ever be updated again, though I do have a few ideas bouncing around in my head. As it is, I will be marking this story as 'complete' and if a few new chapters pop up later on, consider it a bonus. I wrote the second chapter of this story first, and uploaded it as a one shot. Then this idea popped up and had to be written. I was going to post it as a totally new story, sort of a companion piece, but then I realized that I might update again, and it might be cleaner and easier for everyone to just put it into one story. Just in case. So enjoy these snippets into my personal head canon for the lives of Sam and Melanie Puckett.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing at all. If I owned iCarly, there wouldn't be such strong leanings toward Creddie on the show, and it would be revealed that Sam was secretly a nerd.**

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The room is small, with two twin beds on either side. The light from the window shows you that one bed has a pink and white flowered bedspread. The other bed has a bedspread patterned with hot pink and bright orange flowers. There's a girl in each bed. One of the girls is sprawled across hers with the blankets tangled around her legs. She's fast asleep. The other girl is lying on her back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. They look like they might be about ten, maybe eleven.

"Sam?"

"..."

"Sam?"

"..."

"Sam!"

"Hey! What'd you throw that for?"

"I wanted to see if you were awake."

"Well, I wasn't. What do you _want_?"

"Do you think he's here to stay this time?"

"No."

"I think he is. I heard him telling Mom."

"Doesn't he always tell her that?"

"Well, yeah. But he meant it this time. I could tell."

"No he didn't, Melanie. He didn't mean it because he never means it."

"But-"

"He's not staying. Don't convince yourself he is. He's just here to get as much money as he can out of mom, and then he's going to be out of here."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes! God, Melanie. It's what he always does. Did you ever notice that every time he comes home, we're flat broke when he leaves?"

"Because Mom-"

"No, Melanie. Not because Mom. It's him. He spends it at the bar. He spends it on new clothes. He spends it on his bus ticket. He spends it on those bribes he gives us."

"They're not _bribes_."

"Yes they are."

"No they're not! They're presents! Because he lo-"

"Don't. Don't even say it."

"Because he loves us!"

"..."

"...Sam?"

"He doesn't love us. If he really loved us, any of us, he wouldn't just come home every couple of years, blow all of Mom's money, and then leave. He doesn't love us. He never did."

"Yes he does!"

"Then why won't he ever stay? Why can't he stand to be around us for longer than a month?"

"It's not us, Sam! It's Mom! She-"

"Why doesn't he ever write? Or call?"

"He's just-"

"Why does he hit her?"

"I don't-"

"Why does he hit _me_?"

"..."

"No answer? I thought so. What he does isn't love, Melanie. He doesn't love us. He uses us. Now shut up and go to sleep."

The room is silent. The yelling in the next room is clearer now. It sounds a like a woman is crying. The girl in the pink and white flowered bedspread sits up, looking across the room at her sister.

"Sam?"

"Ugh, what now?"

"I'm sorry he hit you."

"Better me than you, right? Everyone knows you can't take a punch. Now shut up, I'm trying to sleep."

The girls fall silent. The girl with the white and pink flowered bedspread pulls a pillow over her ears to try and drown out the shouting from the other side of her wall. After a moment, though, she stands up. Quietly, she walks across the room to her sister's bed, tugging on the covers and pushes lightly on her sister's shoulder. Sam scoots over to make a little more room for Melanie, and Melanie crawls into bed next to her sister. The light coming in from the window illuminates Sam's face, a bruise just barely visible on her skin. Melanie feels a rush of guilt, and she closes her eyes tightly and snuggles closer to her sister just as the sound of someone stomping down the stairs reaches her ears. A door slams below, and Melanie realizes that Sam was right. She's always right about these things.

Melanie doesn't know if Sam's still sleeping, but she's grateful that she doesn't hear any 'I told you so's' from her sister. She probably will tomorrow, but that's fine. A car peels out of the driveway, something shatters downstairs, and there in the dark, Melanie Puckett knows that she has to get out of this house and away from this family. She can't handle this. She's only eleven years old, but she already knows that the only reason that she can deal with any of this is because Sam's there. Without her, Melanie thinks that she'd be completely lost. But she'd still give _anything_ for the chance to get away.


	2. Age 12

**Disclaimer: Still no episode that has anything to do with Sam being a genius. Clearly, I do not own iCarly.**

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Looking into the room, you see two girls. They look like they're about eleven or twelve. One is sitting on the bed, and you take note of the fact that her clothes are a strange mix of bright colors and busy patterns that somehow seem to work when you put them all together. She's smirking. The other girl could be a carbon copy of the girl on the bed, with a thin frame, blonde curls, and blue eyes. Her expression is tired, like she's seen that smirk and had this conversation too many times before. Her clothes are perfectly matched, but all of the colors are kind of faded. She's standing by the closet, pulling clothes out of it and folding them carefully as she puts them into a suitcase.

"They'll take one look at you and then kick you out."

"They will not."

"They'll know right away that you don't belong there."

"But I do belong there. I earned it."

"What will you do when they ask about your family?"

"I'll tell them that I have a twin sister, that my Dad's gone, and that Mom raises us."

"If you can call what she does raising us. It's more like putting up with us and sometimes cooking dinners or driving us somewhere, unless she's got a date or has had too much to drink. What will you do when they want you to go hang with them somewhere but you don't have any extra cash on you? And that's my shirt."

"Respectfully decline. And no, it's not."

"What about when Mom sends you a hideous bikini that she's sure you'll love? And yes, it is my shirt. I bought it."

"Laugh about her terrible fashion sense. And no, you didn't. I got it for Christmas."

"It looks better on me."

"We're twins, Sam. It looks the same."

"No it doesn't. Your chest is bigger than mine."

"That's not true!"

"Is so."

"Ugh, fine, have the shirt!"

"What if they make fun of your clothes? I mean, _you_ shop at Mall-Mart. They probably all shop in ridiculously fancy boutiques or something."

"Then I'll ask them for some of their fancy clothes."

"You would not."

"Yeah, I definitely would not."

"And if they ask you about why I'm not there with you?"

"You're in a juvenile detention center."

"Melanie!"

"I'm just kidding. I'll just tell them you take slacking to a whole new level, so your grades aren't good enough, which is true. You should really try harder, by the way. If you put effort in, you wouldn't have had to repeat a grade, you know."

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't be in the same grade as Carly. Everything happens for a reason. Oh, and you do know that you're not going to fit-"

"Sam, stop it."

"Well you won't! You're going to some snotty rich kid's school on a scholarship. Once they find that out, they'll make your life miserable."

"It'll be better than here."

"They're probably smarter than you."

"I said stop."

"It's true! Everyone might treat you like practically a genius here, in the Seattle Public School system, but once you're down there with the rich kids and their fancy private tutors, you won't be all that spec-"

"Can't you just be happy for me? Save the jealousy for later! Send me a nice long rant through e-mail or something."

"I'm not _jealous_! I didn't want to go to some rich kid's school in California anyway. I have friends and a life here."

"If you're not jealous, then what are you?"

"I'm mad, okay? You're supposed to stay here and help me deal with Mom!"

"You've always been better at that then I am."

"I can't do it on my own, Mel."

"Yes you can. You already do. That won't change."

"But what about when she drinks too much and passes out?"

"Ignore her."

"And when she brings a new guy home who just doesn't look right?"

"Go to Carly's."

"When she locks me out?"

"Pick the lock. Or go to Carly's."

"When she forgets to buy food?"

"Go to the store. But don't steal food. Steal money from Mom's purse. You don't need to be arrested again. Or just go to Carly's. The Shays never asks us too many questions when we show up for meals."

"When she pulls a disappearing act?"

"Forge a note from her, asking the Shays to keep you. Just like always."

"The house goes dark because she forgets to pay the electric bill?"

"Steal her credit card, go to the library, and pay it yourself. You know all her passwords and things."

"She leaves the window open and raccoons and squirrels and other animals get in?"

"Leave trails of food that lead out of the house until they're all gone. Or clean up the house, and then call animal control and let them take care of it."

"Okay, what about when she gets all wacked out and starts yelling at Frothy and inanimate objects to get jobs or move out, or something?"

"Go to Carly's for a couple of hours, then come home. If she's still acting like that, then grab some clothes and pyjamas, call Carly, and ask if you can stay there. Say that Mom has to go out of town for a few days, or something. You know that she'll believe you and you'll be able to stay. You're a good liar."

"What about-"

"Sam, please stop. Whatever happens with Mom, you'll handle it the way you always do. Nothing will change, except you'll only have to take care of yourself now. You won't have to drag me along, or worry about me, or anything."

"But-"

"God, Samantha, don't you get that I need to get out of here? I can't take it anymore. This isn't how people are supposed to live."

"You're so selfish. And don't call me Samantha."

"No, _Samantha_, you're the selfish one. Wanting me to give this up is selfish."

"Mel, let's go!"

"Fine. You want to go, then go. There's your call."

"Aren't you coming with us to the airport?"

"No."

"Sam, come on. Come say goodbye."

"No."

"Sam."

"_No_."

"Please?"

Silence.

"You'll regret it later."

"Melanie, come _on_!"

"I want you to come see me off."

"No you don't. You just don't want to be in the car alone with her."

"No, I really want you to come see me off. It'll be awhile before I'm back."

Silence.

"Please?"

Silence.

"Samantha, I'm serious. Come on."

"Melanie Puckett, if you expect to catch that plane, you better get your butt down here right _now_!"

"Sam…"

"_Melanie_!"

"Sammy,"

"_Melanie Elisabeth Puckett_, I have a date tonight, and if you make me miss it, I _swear_, I'll call that school and tell them you're _not_ going!"

"Okay, fine. Be that way. But Sam? I love you. I'll call or e-mail as soon as I get there, I promise."

The blonde on the bed is silent, scowling as her sister picks up the two small suitcases that hold everything she feels like she needs to take with her and leaves the room. Angrily, she grabs the basketball that's next to her bed and tosses it angrily at the opposite wall. One of her sister's numerous academic awards falls onto the worn carpet. Outside, you can hear the car start, and then drive away. The blonde lies back on the bed and scowls at the ceiling. A few minutes later, she stands up and crosses the room, grabbing her cell phone and a five dollar bill out of the drawer. She leaves the house and walks to the bus stop, pressing speed dial number 2 on her phone as she does.

"Hey Carls, can I come over? By the way, you should say yes, 'cause I'm already on my way over."

The bus pulls up, and the blonde gets on, fishing in her pocket for some change so she can pay the fare. She walks to the back of the bus, and a frown crosses her face as the person on the other end of the line says something to her.

"Nuh uh. Just me. Miss Perfect's probably halfway to the airport to catch the plane to her fancy school by now. Thank God. Now I can have my own room."

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**Author's Note: R****eviews are always appreciated! Thanks for reading!**


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